


It's Nice To Have A Friend

by the_london_almond



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, S8? I don't know her, Time Skips, keith's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 22:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20415088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_london_almond/pseuds/the_london_almond
Summary: Glimpses of Keith and Shiro's relationship over the years





	It's Nice To Have A Friend

**Author's Note:**

> I love Sheith so much but never thought I'd write for them. After listening to Taylor Swift's "It's Nice To Have A Friend," however, I was struck by how much that song seemed to tell their story--and by how much I needed to write it. 
> 
> Hopefully you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Kudos and comments are always adored. Thanks for stopping by ❤

Cadets shuffle out of the classroom, their chatter ranging from complaining about an assignment to gushing about their plans for the evening. Everyone, Keith notices, seems to have someone. 

He is reluctant to leave his seat. Going back to his dorm room to a roommate who hardly looks at him, let alone even comes home, is something Keith dreads every day. Still, it’s better than being alone in a classroom. He slings his bag over his shoulder and steps out into the hallway. 

A large hand settles on his shoulder, and Keith turns to find the best thing he’s seen all day. 

Shiro.

“Hey bud, how’s your day been?” Shiro smiles down at him. If Shiro notices the way Keith’s shoulder relaxes under his hand, he doesn’t say anything. 

“Fine. Got a 98% on my physics test, and I didn’t get into any fights today. Aren’t you proud of me,” Keith deadpans, but then can’t help the slight upturn of his lips. 

Ruffling Keith’s hair, Shiro laughs, “Actually, I _am_ proud of you. We should celebrate! What do you say, feel like hanging out with an old timer tonight?” 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Keith replies. He’s a little surprised at how earnest he sounds. Shiro simply grins and tosses an arm over Keith’s shoulder as they walk out of the Garrison. Once they’re outside, the biting cold and the smattering of snow on the ground remind Keith of his winter gloves--left at the shack he lived in before joining the Garrison. 

This, Shiro takes explicit notice of. Retrieving his own pair of gloves from his pocket, Shiro offers Keith one glove, puts the other on his left hand, and grabs Keith’s ungloved hand. Shiro’s always made physical contact look effortless, but it leaves Keith dizzy every time. Before Shiro, the only physical contact Keith received was from fists or pitying head pats. He can’t remember what his father’s touch felt like anymore.

The two walk in comfortable silence, hand in hand. Keith spots a red graffiti tag peeking out from a snow drift against one of the Garrison buildings and points it out to Shiro, who laughs and tells the story of how the kid was caught. The snowfall is light, but it still settles on them like glitter as they walk.

Shiro’s celebration involves grabbing a two-man tent, their favorite fast food, and as much bedding as they can manage before racing out to the frozen desert on hoverbikes. Somehow, Shiro got last-minute permission to take the night off. Keith is beyond pleased, but he makes sure not to smile too wide. Good things never last. He wants to make sure he doesn’t scare this one off prematurely. Shiro sets up a multiplayer racing game on their comms and does his best to amuse Keith with god-awful puns and cheesy trash talk to the NPCs. Despite his best efforts to stay stoic, Keith is in stitches from laughing by the end of the first race. 

Before the next race begins, a message pops up on Keith’s comm.

**Shiro:**  
_Thanks for hanging out with me tonight, Keith. I’m really glad to have you as a friend. :)_

Keith looks over to find Shiro finalizing the settings for their race on his comm, a soft smile on his face. When he feels Keith’s gaze, Shiro doesn’t say anything, but his smile widens. 

Later that night, surrounded by fast food wrappers and pillows, Keith drifts off to sleep with something like peace in his chest. It’s the best night of sleep he’s had in years. 

…

Keith can hardly believe it. Shiro is _here_. On Earth. At Keith’s shack. 

With Keith. 

Shiro looks so different now--broader, scarred, a shock of white in his hair, a missing arm--but is still so unmistakably himself. As soon as he’d woken up, his hands were all over Keith, checking for injuries. He’d also wanted to know everything Keith had been up to since he’d gone to Kerberos. Frustrated but fond, Keith had forced Shiro to calm down and drink some water. They could talk later after Shiro got more rest. 

By the time Keith, Lance, Pidge, and Hunk got Shiro up to speed on everything, the day had eased into twilight. Fading sunlight had tinged the desert sky light pink, and that is what Keith and Shiro see now as they sit on the shack roof together. It reminds Keith of when Shiro would beg off curfew for them both so they could sit just like this, gazing up at the stars they love so dearly. 

Keith’s heart aches with how familiar this all is. If Keith closes his eyes, it’s like Shiro never left. But he cannot ignore what has happened or what is coming; the haunted look in Shiro’s eyes and the existence of the Blue Lion have cemented that. 

Still, having Shiro next to Keith again is the second greatest gift the universe has given him. The first, of course, is ever giving him Shiro at all. So he clears his throat and asks, “Shiro, how…” _how did you come back to me? how much did they take from you?_ “How are you doing? Like, really doing.”

Shiro offers a wry grin, “Well, I’ve been pretty stressed out lately. What with being a gladiator and a lab rat for a violent alien race for the past year and all. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, yeah?”

Keith laughs at Shiro’s sarcasm if only to keep himself from crying. “Shiro, I’m being serious. You can talk to me about it, if you want. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Shiro, normally so cheerfully undaunted, lets his shoulders sag and begins describing all the gory details of his enslavement. The urge to reach for Shiro’s hand has never been stronger for Keith, but he resists it. He knows what it’s like to be touched in ways that leave scars--emotionally and physically--and he wouldn’t be able to bear it if his friend recoiled from him. 

So instead he listens, constantly aware of the distance between them.

A relative year--perhaps a little longer--passes, and Keith feels that distance again. He, Shiro, and the rest of Voltron have gone through so much. Keith measures his experiences in the changes to his body: the Galran features that awakened from spending time with his mother and the Blades, his height and broad shoulders from years on the space whale, the healed gash on his cheek from trying to save Shiro from himself. All of these things speak to what Keith has gone through, but nothing speaks as much as Shiro’s pronounced absence.

Ever since the fight, Shiro had gradually distanced himself from Keith. Keith’s patience for Shiro knew (knows) no bounds, so Keith had simply let Shiro take the space he needed. They would be fine. They always were. 

Keith tries to maintain that same confidence now as he sits in a hospital bed with bandages around his head. He hasn’t seen Shiro since crashing back to Earth two weeks ago. Turning away from the door, Keith catches his mother’s concerned gaze. 

“Keith,” she begins.

He cuts her off, “He’ll come, Mom. I know he will. He’s my friend.”

His mother’s expression softens. “I know, little one. I just hope your trust isn’t misplaced.” 

Nodding, Keith grips the hospital blanket tighter. Krolia gets up from her seat and kisses Keith’s forehead before leaving the room. She has a meeting with the Blades so he won’t see her again until the evening. To stave off the loneliness until then, Keith picks up his comm and resumes a novel he’s been reading. 

An hour later, someone knocks on the door. Keith gives whoever it is permission to enter without looking up from his comm. When he doesn’t hear anything after the door shuts again, he glances up to see who his visitor is. 

It’s Shiro. 

Wordlessly, Shiro sits in the chair next to Keith’s bed with his elbows on his knees, staring at his hands. It’s quiet for several minutes. Keith wants to say something, anything, but all he can do is swallow hard and keep his tears from welling over. _Why did you leave me alone? Why didn’t you tell me what you were thinking, what you were scared of? What did I do to hurt you?_ So many questions, and Keith can utter none of them. 

Shiro looks up finally, and when he glimpses Keith’s expression, his own crumples. With shaking hands, he reaches for Keith’s. His grip is feather-light at first. So tentative. But once he sees that Keith isn’t pulling away, his grip tightens. 

It’s nice to have a friend again.

…

The war is over. It has been for months, and rebuilding both cities and intergalactic relationships takes the majority of everyone’s time. Even so, there is always time for joy.

Church bells ring and chapel doors open to a path lined by cheering friends and family. Shiro and Keith laugh as they run with held hands through the shower of rice, reminiscent of that day they walked together through the snow so long ago. Keith yelps in happy surprise when he’s swept into Shiro’s arms and carried the rest of the way to their car. Laughter and well-wishes echo behind them as they drive away to start the rest of their lives together.

Shiro drives with one hand resting on Keith’s thigh. Keith laces their fingers together and smiles at the simple band he wears now. He’s never needed a physical reminder that Shiro always has his back, but he cannot deny that he loves the way it looks. 

They are headed to a short honeymoon; the captain of the Atlas and the leader of Voltron can only afford to be away for a weekend. Keith predicts, hopes, that they will spend the entire weekend in bed. They spend enough time doing, traveling, seeing. All Keith wants to see for the next two days is Shiro, and he knows that Shiro feels similarly. 

Shiro pulls Keith back to the present with a squeeze to his thigh. “What are you thinking about, Keith?”

“Not much, babe,” Keith responds, giving a squeeze to Shiro’s hand in return. 

“Mmm,” hums Shiro, “I bet it was something sappy.” 

Keith wants to kiss that playful smirk right off Shiro’s face. He tells Shiro as much, and Shiro’s answering laughter feels more like home than any place ever has. 

It’s so nice to have a friend.


End file.
